Death's Witness
by PowerOfOne
Summary: 31 October, 1981 - the bodies of James and Lily Potter were found in the ruins of their house in Godric's Hollow. Their son, Harry James Potter, was never found. The Dark Lord Voldemort was now the unchallenged most powerful Dark Wizard in the world. Fifteen years on, however, the war seems to still have no visible end, so Voldemort decides to bring out a new weapon - his heir.
1. Chapter 1: The Ghosts of Riddle House

**Chapter One: The Ghosts of Riddle House**

No one knew who owned the house after all the Riddles were killed. The accepted explanation around town was that 'a very wealthy man had the deeds, for tax reasons'.

The Riddle House was haunted.

There was no other house in all of England that fitted the description of a haunted house better than the Riddle House, with its large grimy windows covered by its moth eaten drapes, vines clinging desperately to its cracked, crumbling walls, its front door unopened for almost fifty years. Even the shape of the house screamed 'haunted', so large that it was much more a mansion or manor than a house, and so empty.

Once, there had been a man by the name of Frank Bryce, who had tended to the grounds of the Riddle House. Decrepit and definitely not trusted by the residents of Little Hangleton, who believed he was responsible for the murder of the Riddle family who owned the house, Bryce lived and died there. Or, at least, that was the assumption, since no one in the small village seemed to know exactly what happened to the groundskeeper.

Some say that he was captured by the ghosts of the place and his soul was doomed to torment for the rest of eternity.

Without a groundskeeper for more than twenty odd years, the carefully tended grounds of the Riddle House quickly became overgrown and filled with all manner of vegetation, from grass and wildflowers to shrubs that had somehow taken root. It was unnatural in its naturalness, that Mother Nature itself had begun to reclaim the place that for so long had been a symbol of terror for all of Little Hangleton.

But whatever the state of the garden, it did not, by any measure, mean that the house itself was any less haunted.

It wasn't just the physical appearance of the property that generated such a conclusion. Often at night, and sometimes even during the day, there would be visitors to the house. These visitors were garbed in black from head to toe, wearing what appeared to be robes with hoods, their faces, it was said, not the colour of living flesh but silver, and completely expressionless. Sometimes these people would be leaving, and they would step out only to vanish as though they had never been there. Others would arrive and step through the gates, which opened without even being touched, only to disappear as soon as they entered the grounds.

A few of the braver local town lads had once dared each other to investigate the Riddle House. They had gone up as far as the gate, a act of reckless bravery or perhaps extraordinary foolishness. They had seen, they said, footprints of those that came to and fro from the property. They had observed, they said, how one would enter the grounds and simply disappear. They swore they would make it all the way up to the house next time. They were never heard of again.

From that point forth, no one even dared to _think_ of going anywhere near the Riddle House. The locals knew to stay well clear of it and visitors to the town who were considering ignoring local advice took one look at the house and changed their minds. No one ever approached the Riddle House because, after all...

The Riddle House was haunted.

Of course, the residents of Little Hangleton were Muggles. They couldn't possibly understand that there were wards around the Riddle House, and that Witches and Wizards had to exit the grounds before they could Disapparate. They didn't know that the grounds and the house were, in fact, not only undamaged, but fully repaired and refurbished. Nor could they appreciate the enchantments on the grounds that kept them neat and tidy to anyone that stood on the grounds themselves.

The Ministry of Magic, however, _did_ know these things. They knew, because they had been monitoring the property for years, hoping for an opportunity or some sort of lucky break. What they need was to be able to attack the Riddle House and arrest the occupants within.

Had things been different, it was quite possible that the Riddle House would have been hidden even more thoroughly until it wasn't visible at all. Had things been different, then the Ministry Aurors might have dared to simply wait outside the gates and ambush anyone who came alone. Unfortunately, they couldn't, because any attempt to do such a thing would be suicide. The Riddle House was now the base of the Dark Lord Voldemort's operations, as well as his home, and it had been a long time since the Dark Lord needed to hide from anyone. If anyone was so foolish as to attempt to attack the property, then they would be defeated, quickly and easily. Their deaths, however, probably wouldn't be.

That was why none of the six hiding Aurors did anything as a lone figure appeared abruptly right in front them. Clad in black robes, the Death Eater stood there motionlessly, knowing that no action was necessary and, sure enough, the massive black iron gates swung open with an ominous creak that, had any Muggles been there, would only have solidified the impression that the Riddle House was haunted.

* * *

Harry was well aware of the six pairs of eyes drilling into his back. He knew exactly where each of the observers were hiding – two behind a rock, one behind a tree, one pretending to be a middle aged man on an evening stroll, one hovering invisible on a broomstick overhead and the last hunched down in a Muggle automobile. It would be only too easy for him to turn and kill every single of those Aurors without breaking a sweat, but they weren't worth his time. He was in a hurry, after all.

His Father had called for him.

_Those pathetic wizards should count themselves lucky,_ he thought, lips curling subconsciously as the gates swung shut with a reverberating _clang_ behind him. Wasting no time, he strode down the path through the deserted grounds.

As a child, it was in these grounds that he played, under the watchful eye of his body guards, some of his Father's best men. It seemed that he was quite fond of being outside when he was younger, for his earliest memories were filled with scenes from amongst the trimmed hedges and on the soft lawn. At first, the Death Eater's never played with him, or even approached him, no doubt afraid of incurring their Master's wrath should they accidentally say or do something they shouldn't.

It gave him some comfort to pass over the threshold of the house and let the darkness close in when the doors shut securely behind him. He didn't really enjoy spending time in the garden anymore, because it made him remember better times when he could simply be a child. He wasn't unhappy with the life he lead now, fighting for a man he felt the uttermost loyalty to, but back then, life didn't seem so serious. As soon as his training started, fun and games became a thing of the past.

He had lived at the Riddle House with his Father for his entire life, so it was with ease that he navigated his way through the manor and to the large dining room, which had been converted into a meeting room of sorts, complete with a throne. Two Death Eaters flanked the double oak doors, their wands in their hand. As he approached, the one on the left stepped forward and placed himself deliberately in the way.

"What is your purpose with the Dark Lord?"

"I am expected." Harry was ready for the question. Today was the first time that he revealed himself to lesser Death Eaters. Normally, his Father went to _his _room, so that Harry wouldn't have to interact with anyone except the chosen few. It was for his own safety, he was told, that his existence remained a secret until he was ready.

"I haven't seen your face around here before." The second Death Eater said, eyeing Harry suspiciously, "You new?"

Harry considered simply blasting the two out of the way. He didn't know if his Father wanted his identity revealed just yet, and the only way through it seemed was to disclose that particular bit of information. Just as he was about to raise his hand, however, the first Death Eater overrode his companion.

"Nah, it's alright, go on in," he said, moving to one side, "you shouldn't keep the Dark Lord waiting. Bart," he said to his fellow guard, frowning, "how thick are you? Who the hell would dare pull anything when they're in the same room as the Dark Lord? If he says he's expected, then he must be." Harry never got to hear the second Death Eater's response, because he had entered the room and the doors cut off their conversation.

The dining room of the Riddle House was massive, probably as large as the Hogwarts Great Hall (Harry wasn't too sure, seeing as he'd never seen the Great Hall with his own eyes). Unlike at Hogwarts, however, the Riddle House was dimly lit with only a few, flickering candles that threw dancing, greenish shadows onto the textured walls. The central feature of the dining room was the long banquet table, which was so large it fit more than twenty seats on either side with an additional four on the end closes to the door. It was here that the Death Eaters gathered to hear the orders of their Master.

Past the table stood a large, rigid stone crafted of solid silver and decorated with gold inlays. That, Harry knew, was where his Father sat, because he had been there at the moment of its creation, and even helped a bit in the gold decoration. When the time came for him to reveal himself to the world, Voldemort had promised him at the time, they would craft another throne together to be placed beside the first.

Harry moved past the throne without sparing it a second glance. Though his Father had deemed it important that he be presented as the heir to the leadership of the new order, Harry himself had never wanted any recognition. There was no need to be told that he was the best of his Father's men, it was enough simply for he himself to know that he was. Despite having never gone on any missions, Harry knew that, save perhaps Albus Dumbledore, no one but his Father would be able to best him in a duel. He was taught be the best, so that was what he had become.

Behind the throne was a single mahogany door. Its unassuming look felt odd and out of place in the grandeur of the room; or perhaps it was simply the thick tension the wards around it put into the air. For that door was the entrance to Lord Voldemort's room. No Death Eater would be able to enter. If an enemy somehow did manage to enter the Riddle House, they wouldn't be able to get anywhere close to it. Harry, however, simply strolled up to it, twisted the knob, and let himself in.

His Father was gazing into the crackling depths of the burning fireplace and had his back to the door. Seeing no reaction to indicate that his entrance had been heard, Harry silently raised his wand, a spell glowing on the end of his wand. Before he could let fly, however, Voldemort whirled, blasting Harry into the air with a wave of his hand. Flipping in mid-air, Harry managed to land on his feet with barely enough time to nullify the follow up curse that his Father sent his way, and paused momentarily as he heard the door slam behind him. At that moment, Voldemort cast the simplest of spells, a mere fully body bind. Even a simple spell from the most powerful Dark Wizard in the world was dangerous, and the bind pushed its way past the hastily erected shield.

Harry felt his limbs snap together and his stomach lurch as he began tipping forwards. The only reason why he didn't fall flat on his face and break his nose was because Voldemort had moved quickly forwards to hold him up by the shoulders. Father and son stared into each others' eyes, emerald green meeting ruby red as Harry fought with all his strength to break through the curse. For a whole minute, Voldemort watched him with a mildly amused expression on his face that only served to annoy Harry further. When sweat finally broke out on Harry's forehead from the effort, Voldemort let out a small chuckle and removed the spell with a twitch of his hand.

"Harry, Harry, Harry," Voldemort admonished, shaking his head, "when will you realise that you will _never_ be able to sneak up on me?"

"As long as I'm alive, I have time to keep trying, don't I?" Harry retorted, brushing invisible lint off his robes and pointedly looking away from his Father. "Sooner or later you'll slip up and I'll get you!"

"Harry." Voldemort said, placing a hand on Harry's shoulders, "Wizard's that stand out in the crowd must _never_ let their guard down. Haven't I told you that before? Besides, I am the most powerful Wizard alive and you will one day take my place."

"Who says I haven't already taken that spot from you?" Harry challenged, distancing himself from the Dark Lord and holding his wand out at the ready.

Voldemort only rolled his eyes, only the twitching of the corners of his mouth betraying his amusement. "As much as I would love to prove, _again_, who's the better wizard by defeating you in a duel, like the other hundred plus times you've challenged me, neither you nor I have time right now."

"You have _not_ beaten me a hundred times!" Harry argued, disgruntled. "We've only duelled about fifty!"

"And who won those fifty bouts, Harry?"

"...shut it." Voldemort let out a genuine laugh. Before anything further could be said, the deep gonging of the grandfather clock that sat in one of the second floor hallways echoed throughout the house. Voldemort stilled as the sound reverberated in the walls and the air.

Once...twice...three times...four. Four in the afternoon.

"Come, Harry," Voldemort said in a business like town, sweeping towards the door. "I have called for a meeting, and the Death Eater's are here. Today, you will be at my side."

"Really?" Harry asked, letting some of his excitement leak into his tone. "You're going to tell them about me? Does this mean I get to start going out on missions?"

Voldemort paused, his hand resting on the brass doorknob. "It is still a whole year earlier than I planned, but recent events has forced my hand. You will not be going on a mission tonight. You will be _leading it_."

Harry felt a grin creep onto his face. "Excellent," he said with relish.

"However," Voldemort said, turning slightly to catch his eye, "put your mask on." Harry nodded. A steady stream of smoke poured out of his wand and like coalesced into a mask made of some unidentifiable black metal. Unlike the silver Death Eater masks, which were quite detailed in their terrifying features, this mask had no markings, not even over where the mouth should be. Save for the extra space needed to accommodate his nose, Harry' mask was completely blank. It only needed to serve one purpose, after all – to keep his identity hidden. With it firmly over his face, Voldemort and Harry entered the dining room.

All the Death Eaters had already arrived and the table was filled. There was a clear hierarchy in seating, with the most powerful and trusted men sitting closest to the silver throne. Bellatrix Lestrange was in the first seat, opposite Lucius Malfoy. Nott, Avery, Mulciber and Dolohov occupied the other seats. Past them, Harry saw many others, some he recognised, others completely unfamiliar, which was to be expected. The lure of a share in his Father's powers was a great one indeed, one which many Witches and Wizards were only too happy to follow.

The quite murmur of conversation – no one was foolish enough to talk at a normal volume and risk disturbing the Dark Lord in his chambers – fell away as soon as Voldemort entered the room. Silently, he strode over to the head of the table, a subtle gesture that took Harry completely by surprise indicating that Harry should seat himself in the throne instead. He did as he was asked and watched as his Father opened the meeting.

"Welcome, my loyal friends," he announced, eyes sweeping over the occupants of the room. "Don't get too comfortable, we won't be here long..."

"All of you who are in front of me represent the best that this world has to offer, do you not. You are Wizards and Witches that have proven themselves determined to right the wrongs of our world...wrongs which some seem unwilling to acknowledge. The Ministry, for example, seemed particularly reluctant to accept that a new...order is necessary in order to move forwards, and as a result have stepped up their efforts to...hinder our movements. Most, if not all of you, have displeased me at some point by being captured by our enemies and this has caused the failure of several recent operations that were quite...important."

Harry watched as everyone except him and his Father shifted nervously in their seats. Even the curious few who had been sneaking glances at the man who dared seat himself in the Dark Lord's throne now averted their eyes, seeming to find great interest in the wood grains of the table in front of them.

"No matter, my friends, no matter. Though some of us have departed, an almost equal amount of new blood has pledged themselves to our cause, and I trust that those of you who have failed before will take great care not to do so again."

"But let it not be said that Lord Voldemort is unfair...I am well aware that the fault lies not only with you, but with those incompetents at the Ministry, and those fools who follow the Mudblood-loving Dumbledore as well. We fight for a common cause, after all, my friends, so your successes are my successes as well. You carry out my bidding without question, and for that, some of you have been greatly rewarded..."

"It is true, nonetheless, that the advances we used to make in the past have become few and far between, less and less common, less and less significant. I think it is time, therefore, to introduce a new factor into the equation, put a new piece onto the chess board, one which will guarantee your victory, and mine."

Finally, Voldemort indicated that Harry should step forward, and he did so without hesitation to stand at his Father's side. The Death Eaters began to whisper amongst themselves, looking towards their comrades for a reaction.

"This," Voldemort said over their murmuring, drawing everyone's attention instantly, "is my heir! Look upon that mask well, my friends, for he is to become your leader, as much as I am! Any order that comes from his lips, or is written by his hand, you are to treat as having come from me. He is _my _equal, and all of you are to treat him as such. He has been trained by myself, and the best of you, my friends, as well...isn't that right, Bella? Lucius? There is no Wizard or Witch here that is more skilled, save for myself and I, after all, am anything but ordinary."

"I have allowed the Ministry's interference in our business go on for far too long! It is time to bring an end to this war, and start on the creation of a _better_ world, an _untainted_ society! So, _tonight!_ You, the best of the best, shall remind the world why you are known as my feared Death Eaters! We will _destroy_ one of the symbols of their resistance, a symbol of their belief that we can be ignored – Diagon Alley! The Auror presence there is no doubt heavy, and we have previously been unable to do as much as we have wished. But now, my _son _shall lead you, and there will be _none_ who can stop you!"

At his words, the seated Deaths Eaters let out a roar of approval. The startled expressions that had emerged at Voldemort's announcement of Harry as his heir had quickly given way to expressions of anticipation and excitement about the chaos that was soon to come. Though several faces still looked nervous, or in some cases, downright afraid, that was to be expected. After all, attacks on Diagon Alley had formed a large part of their losses in recent years. _But that was all before I started going on missions,_ Harry thought with satisfaction as the Death Eaters before him continued to express their approval before their two Masters.

**A/N: SUP guys! So to all my old readers, as well as any new ones, this story has nothing to do with my Powers in Life series, but is a plot bunny that has been in my mind for quite a while! It was inspired by the evil Harry/Dark Lord's son Harry meets Ginny Weasley stories that I found and quickly became addicted to (unfortunately I've only seen a few good ones), so I decided to have a go at writing my own! Hopefully you guys have enjoyed this chapter and what I've done with this reasonably common idea, and stick with me to the end! This will be updated weekly, just like my Powers in Life:Power of Change.**

**All the best,**

**PowerOfOne**


	2. Chapter 2: The First Mission

**Chapter Two: The First Mission**

Throughout history, the few hours of the night approaching dawn had always been the most dangerous. It was the time when soldiers would be deepest in their slumber, their bodies relaxed and sluggish to wake due to the strain of the constant danger from the day before. It was the time when the patrols and guards were at their least vigilant, their fears of the darkness alleviated by the approaching light, their hearts lighter knowing that the shadows would soon receded and bring with it the clarity, the safeness of day.

When an attack occurs during these hours, there is a substantial delay in organising a response. In the intervening time, the attackers would be left free to cause as much damage as they could, and even retreat if they were so inclined to do so, vanish into the fading blackness just as the sun rose over the horizon.

As a countermeasure, commanders soon developed a system of an early morning 'stand-to' where every available soldier rose to their stations, just in case the enemy chose that particular morning to attack. No one shirked their duties at this time, for the attention they paid could very well save their lives, as well as the lives of those around them. Because of this new practise, attacks during the night, or early in the morning, quickly fell out of favour. At the very least, they ceased to be as popular as they used to, because darkness, naturally was as much a hindrance as it was a benefit.

As Harry surveyed the twenty men in front of him, he wondered if Wizards had a similar practise. If so, then there would be a terrific fight, one that made his muscles tighten with anticipation just by thinking about it. On the other hand, if they didn't – well, then, by the time night fell again the next day, Diagon Alley would be nothing but rubble on the ground.

The Death Eaters that had been chosen by his Father were some of the best. Each was a deadly duellist that could hold their own against even some of the most renowned Aurors. They had each proven the steel of their resolve in battle – far from the rookies that were generally interspersed amongst the other raiding parties. They were intelligent – their knowledge of all manner of dark and destructive curses would be almost vital to the success of the mission. More importantly, however, they were professional. Good at following orders, without question.

_Well_, Harry thought, reconsidering, _except for Bellatrix, that is_. The woman was insane, certifiably so, but her sheer terrible skill with a wand, her devotion to the cause and her chaotic, dangerous unpredictability made her an obvious choice, regardless of the risks she posed, even to her own side.

New recruits may be shifting nervously by now, conversation rolling through the room as they tried to either distract themselves from their nervousness or express it. These seasoned soldiers, however, talked in nothing but a quiet murmur, unintelligible to any save those closest to them. They waited patiently for an order, their black robes and silver masks as immaculate as though they had just been cleaned which, in fact, they probably were. One did not appear before the Dark Lord looking like a vagabond, and that extended to His son.

That none of the twenty noticed the newcomer yet was perhaps due more to Harry's skill at remaining undetected rather than the inattentiveness of the Death Eaters. Nevertheless, fear was a powerful weapon, one that, thanks to his young age, Harry knew he would have to wield well.

Unnoticed, Harry slipped further into the room. With his hood down, as long as he didn't speak or let anyone see his black mask, the other Death Eaters wouldn't be able to tell that he wasn't one of their peers at all. Naturally, his Father had identified that problem with the masks almost as soon as the spell for their creation was invented, and altered it so that if anyone who didn't bear His mark touched one, it would crumble to pieces. No impersonations would be tolerated.

That also meant, however, that Harry, being unmarked, couldn't wear the Death Eater mask either, not that he would want to. He was better than that.

It was only until he stood at the very centre of the meeting room that he spoke up, the rumbling of his deep, magically altered voice easily carrying to the four corners. As he spoke, a hush fell upon the gathered men, who were no doubt questioning themselves as to how it was possible they had been unaware of his entrance.

"Silence." There was really no need for the command, as silence would have almost certainly fallen, regardless of what he said. "This isn't a cocktail party."

The men needed no further prompting or exchange of meaningless words. Without a sound save for the rustling of robes and the soft tapping of boots on the tiled floor, they arranged themselves in a full circle around their commander. Harry stood motionless as they moved, his green eyes staring straight ahead – not that his eyes could be seen at all with the magic of the mask in place.

Only once the Death Eaters had positioned themselves and became as still as the corpses that they always left in their wake did Harry himself move.

He chose to face Bellatrix Lestrange for several reasons. She was one of, if not the, most senior Death Eaters, and definitely the most devoted to his Father. She was also one of the most powerful, and as an excellent duellist, had the respect, or a healthy amount of fear, from everyone in the room. If Harry had to pick a second in command, he would almost have picked her. Almost because, unlike his Father, he was distinctly wary of the woman's borderline insanity, which could very well prove to be detrimental in the already existing chaos of a battle. That was the first and foremost reason that he chose to impress his words, meant for everyone in the room, on her particularly.

"My Father wants Diagon Alley destroyed. He has decided that you will be the ones to carry out His bidding." Harry said, neither his emotionless tone, nor the stony visage of his mask, giving anything away. "This will not be a raid, but a warning. Following my orders, you will level one of the incompetent Ministry's pathetic symbols of peace. You will not be leaving until the job is done. If the Aurors arrive, some of you will carry on while others will act as your shields."

Harry paused, letting his words sink in. He could almost hear the tension in the room. He felt it in the hairs on the back of his neck, knowing that the attention of the best twenty Death Eaters were currently fixed upon him, and only him. He raised his voice, as though trying to drown out the protests that his next words would bring, despite knowing full well that there wouldn't be any dissent – no one was foolish enough to argue with the son of the Dark Lord.

"There is to be no deviation from your orders. You will follow my orders without question. You were chosen because you were the best of all my Father's followers, and you will prove it by ignoring any and all distractions. There will be no pursuit of inconsequential men, women and children. If they flee from you, leave them be. If they cower in fear, then let them bask in the terror that we bring. If they oppose you, kill them. No torturing, no taunts. Kill them, and move on. Kill as many as possible. Leave no shop untouched, and flatten as many as possible. We will begin on the steps of Gringotts. Any questions?"

There weren't. Harry knew there wouldn't be, because he had been more than clear in his orders, and what little areas of doubt that remained wouldn't be voiced because no one dared to voice them. And if there weren't any questions, then – as he heard the mansion clock strike three in the morning – there was only one thing left to say.

"Go."

Without waiting for a response, Harry twisted on the spot, vanishing silently with a swirl of his robes.

* * *

Despite being the son of the most powerful Dark Lord, or perhaps because of it, Harry had never been in Diagon Alley before. Had he been an ordinary Wizard, he wouldn't have been able to Apparate into Diagon Alley at all. However, he wasn't an ordinary Wizard, for the same reason as why he had never visited the busy Magical Shopping Street. That was how he managed to appear on the steps of the monumental marble structure that was Gringotts bank without a hitch.

In seconds, he was surrounded by the chosen twenty, the cracks of their Apparition echoing off the walls of the deserted streets and down the shadowy alleyways. It was in times like this, as opposed as to the duels, that Harry truly appreciated his Father's wisdom in picking the best people for the job. Despite having no group orientation as the Death Eater's appeared, in less than a single second they were ready, in a semicircle facing outwards, their wands up and prepared, all without a sound.

Harry stood behind the phalanx of men and allowed himself a brief moment to enjoy the tranquillity of the night. Somewhere out there, a cat yowled at an unknown adversary. There was the sound of a closing door, or perhaps some sort of sliding window, in one of the alleys – reasonable, since some shopkeepers lived above their livelihoods. If he strained his ears, Harry could just make out the wavering, off-key song of a drunkard. He could hear nothing else. Diagon Alley was silent.

Slowly, he withdrew his wand from the holster hidden in the sleeves of his left arm. He was almost reluctant to use it. He wasn't afraid of a good duel. It was unlikely that anyone could come anywhere near his level of skill, anyway. It was more that casting a spell with it seemed to hold so much more weight, so much more meaning than usual. Once he started, it would begin – the chaos, the terror. Screams, explosions and flames. Death, and the exhilaration of not being dead just yet, and knowing that such a fact could change in the next few seconds. It was more that once he begun, Diagon Alley would disappear, and even once it was rebuilt, if it was rebuilt, it still wouldn't be the same. Harry wished that he'd had a chance when he was younger to at least visit the street, experience it for himself. After tonight, he would never get the chance now.

It really was such a shame.

The first curse out of his wand was a simple Blasting Curse. Simple and crude, but undeniably effective. With a crash, it punched through the shop front of a broomstick store, the ornate lettering above the door – marking it as_ Quality Quidditch Supplies_ – disappearing in an explosion of metal, wood and glass.

The Death Eaters took his actions as a signal. Before the sound had even faded away completely, twenty more spells cast in different directions had joined his, a rainbow of bright colours lighting up the darkness of the street. They ripped through front doors, shattered shop windows and dug craters into brick walls as easily as a knife through butter.

The residents of Diagon Alley woke from their deep slumber into a world of utter chaos. Twin explosions blossomed from a nearby potions store, causing hungry flames to billow out onto the empty street. They caught onto the banners hanging outside what looked like an ice-cream shop and eagerly consumed them, its hot tongues licking at the roof of the building. Not too far away, there was a resonating groan that shook the air, and an entire building collapsed, releasing a cloud of dust and debris into the air.

That's when the screams began. No doubt, there had been people in that store, who were no injured and trapped by the very walls that had provided them with shelter. From where Harry stood on the steps of Gringotts, he could see the orange-red glow of a new fire beneath the stone. He raised his wand, his eyes narrowing briefly in concentration, and the flames roared in response, bursting into a full inferno. There was a horrible screech that was abruptly cut off, even as other shouts and yells began to fill the air.

The Death Eaters did not hesitate in their casting, nor were they particularly picky about their targets. They were ordered for destruction, and were more than happy to comply. Again and again, flashes erupted from their wands, blowing away walls and encouraging the fires, both the first one from the ice-cream shop and the second from the collapse of the building. Thanks to the shared walls of many of Diagon Alley's stores, not to mention often a shared roof, the collapse soon began to have an effect on the strength of the others stores as well, so that almost ten shops in a row on one side of the street broke away and crashed to the ground.

Soon, those that hadn't yet been trapped in their homes began piling out onto the street. At first, concerned with only the safety of themselves and those around them, they tried to run, but were trapped by a ring of chaos. Some managed to break away and escaped further down the street, but more often than not, they simply milled around like confused sheep, their fear clouding their judgement as surely as if they had been consuming too much alcohol _which_, Harry thought with disgust, _was entirely possible in some of their cases_.

True to their orders, the Death Eaters had so far ignored the terrified Witches and Wizards before them, focused only on the task of razing their homes to the ground. No one had yet to move from their position on the steps of Gringotts, preferring to use their high ground to search for ever more distant targets to burn. Soon, however, some brave souls managed to organise some semblance of a resistance. Spells weren't only been sent in one direction now, and Harry gave his men a new order.

"Kill anyone who fights back!" His guttural roar easily heard above the cacophony of explosions, screams and yells. Half the Death Eaters immediately began shooting curses into the crowd, their wands releasing a never ending stream of death. Avada Kedavra wasn't the only spell employed, with blasting curses, concussive hexes and a handful of much darker, more terrible spells.

Harry watched impassively, his own a blur, as Bellatrix, cackling loudly, sent an electric blue curse into an opening left by a middle aged man still in his boxers. The man let out a shriek that would no doubt have been deafening had it not been for the sheer amount of noise already present in the area, as his own blood turned acidic and began melting away his flesh. He tried to run, only to fall heavily to the ground when his feet became too damaged to walk, and he lay there, mouth moving without a sound now, as he disappeared in a puddle of blood and gore, even as, around him, people he may have known were blown away by flashes of green light.

"There's nothing left for us here!" Harry called to his men, many of whom had abandoned the task of destruction and were now duelling with the remnants of the defenders, simply because there was nothing left to destroy, "Move down the street, bring down every single one of these pathetic stores!"

A cry of approval ran forth from the Death Eaters as they hurriedly ended their duels, with the help of their peers. Some of the residents were hit with as many as five spells at the same time and simply ceased to exist, whilst others were blown so high up into the air that the eyes of those nearest were inevitably drawn to the inappropriately graceful flight of the body before they themselves were killed in a similar fashion. In minutes, everyone who had tried to fight against the Death Eaters was dead, or dying in excruciating agony, and Harry signalled for them to move on.

Before he could, a shrill scream ran out over the roar of the flames and the groaning yells of the injured. Harry whirled to see Bellatrix standing over a young red haired man, her wand connected to him by a beam of crackling, sickly yellow light. The man writhed in agony on the ground before her as she screeched in delight, her head thrown back in abandon. Bellatrix removed the spell, more to give herself a brief respite than the man, and pointed her wand at him again. She opened her mouth, her eyes narrowed in malice, but before she could utter the Cruciatus Curse again, she was blasted away, landing in a heap not far from her victim.

Harry swished his wand and the wand of the insane witch fell neatly into his hand.

"I SAID NO TORTURING!" he roared, throwing Bellatrix's wand back to her, fury coursing through his veins. "HOW DARE YOU DISOBEY MY ORDERS? YOU AREN'T HERE TO HAVE FUN YOU FOOL!" With another flick of his wand, Harry drew Bellatrix towards him and threw her over his head, and the heads of the watching Death Eaters, towards the part of Diagon Alley they had yet to touch. She landed heavily with a squeal of pain, but somehow managed to stagger to her feet, heavily favouring her right leg. She didn't stay on her feet for long, however, as she instantly dropped back to the ground and prostrated herself before Harry as the other Death Eaters watched warily.

"I'm sorry My Lord, I'm so sorry!" She repeated over and over again, not daring to look at Harry at all. "I got caught up in the moment, I'm sorry!"

Harry ignored her completely, instead turning his masked visage towards the other Death Eaters, who seemed frozen in place as they watched the fury of the Dark Lord's Son directed towards one of their own.

"What are you waiting for, you idiots?" He snarled, raising his wand. A collective flinch passed through the gathered men as they turned and sprinted down the street to create a new wave of destruction. Once they were gone, Harry turned back to Bellatrix. "I have decided," he informed her emotionlessly, "to delay your punishment until after this mission is completed. Get out of my sight and don't return until there isn't a single building left standing in this Alley!"

"Of course, My Lord," She replied, jumping to her feet immediately and retreated backwards away from Harry. She waited until she was well away, metres from him, before turning and running to join her peers, leaving Harry standing alone in the sea of bodies and debris, giant walls of hungry flames ravaging what had once been the shops of Diagon Alley.

* * *

Dumbledore looked worried. The lines across his ancient face seemed more pronounced than ever in the flickering light of the room as he surveyed the gathered men and women before him. Bill Weasley felt a cold tingle travel through his body. After all, when the greatest Wizard in the world stood before you looking worried then you shood be very worried. He glanced at those who were seated around the table.

On his left, stood Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, having chosen not to take a seat at all. His electric blue eye spun wildly without a clear direction, even as his regular eye was fixed unblinkingly on the old Wizard at the head of the table.

On his right, Nymphadora Tonks seemed unusually serious, her hair blond for once, rather than her usual shade of cheerful bubble-gum pink. It was to be expected, seeing as she had apparently been talking to Dumbledore shortly before this meeting was called, so she no doubt had some idea of what was going on. Her businesslike appearance didn't do much in the way of comfort for Bill.

Past her, Sirius Black lounged lazily in his chair, his black hair in complete disarray, having been, like the rest of them, rudely roused from his bed. Since Grimmauld Place was his house, however, he'd had less warning than the rest of them that a meeting was taking place, only knowing when they barged into the building. Despite his dishevelled appearance, however, his tension was clearly visible in the way his eyes darted from one face to the next, his tightly clenched fists resting before him on the kitchen table.

There were many other Witches and Wizards present as well, but those three were the only ones Bill had time to truly consider before Dumbledore called the mission to order.

"There has been," he announced, sounding tired, "an attack in Diagon Alley. There are about twenty Death Eaters present, and it looks as though they are trying to level the region. Apart from all our usual fighters, if anyone else would like to come help, then it would be much appreciated, but we don't have any time to lose." The man made to leave, but someone called out a question that forced him to turn and address the speaker.

"Albus, who did we have stationed there right now?"

"We have yet to receive any communications with our patroller there. Tonight, it was Arthur Weasley."

There was a shocked gasp, and Bill watched as his mother, who had just stood to volunteer, sunk back into her seat, her eyes wide and unseeing, even as Bill felt his own face whiten in fear.

* * *

Outside the kitchen, gathered on the stairs and in fact several floors above it, five shocked teens hastily tugged on the flesh coloured tubes that they attached to their ears for the purpose of listening into the details of the meeting. The Extendable Ears disappeared from view just before everyone poured out of the kitchen and made their way to the front door. Multiple cracks could be heard even inside the house as Witches and Wizards Apparated away.

Ginny Weasley turned her ashen face towards her fellow eavesdroppers – her three brothers, Fred, George and Ron, and one of her best friends, Hermione Granger. Ron and Hermione both looked as shaken as she did, but Fred and George weren't even glancing at her. Instead, they looked at each other, nodded, and got to their feet. With a wave of their wands, they easily transfigured their bedclothes to a set of plain back robes and headed for the door.

"Don't wait up, Gin Gin, Ronniekins, Ms. Granger!" Fred called over his shoulder as he raced down the stairs.

"Yeah," Affirmed George as he followed his twin, "We don't know how long we'll be!"

"Where do you think they're going?" Ron asked blankly, his freckles standing out clearly on his pale face. Had the situation been less serious, Ginny would have snorted at his cluelessness, but any amount of humour at the moment seemed beyond her.

"Isn't it obvious, Ron?" She snapped, rolling her eyes. "They've gone to help!"

"Oh they wouldn't!" Hermione protested, shaking her head. "Just because they can use magic now doesn't mean they'd rush into the middle of a battle!"

"You say that like they're going for fun!" Ginny said, with a scandalized expression as she too rushed for the stairs, "They want to _help_ Hermione, innocent people could be dying!"

"Oh but-"

"Hang on," Ron protested, cutting off Hermione before she could reply, "Where're you going then?"

"You're a smart boy, Ronald, work it out!"

"You don't think..." started Ron, staring at Hermione.

"I think she is..." replied the bushy haired girl, her face worried.

"Bugger. Well she isn't going alone."

"What?" Asked Hermione, startled, "Wait, hey, Ron!"

Ginny caught up with Fred just before he stepped into the Floo. George, it seemed, was already gone. Fred's eyes widened perceptibly as he saw his little sister running towards him. He had already shouted out the name of his destination, the Leaky Cauldron, and before he could stop her, she crashed into them, sending them both flying backwards into the fire. There was a hiss of sparks, then in a flash of green flames, they were gone.

By the time Ron and Hermione reached the fire, it was too late. No matter how much Floo Powder they used, the fire wouldn't start, fizzling out within seconds each time. Of course, neither of them managed to work out why, because even Hermione hadn't read about such an effect yet. Neither of them knew that, miles away, on the other side, the Leaky Cauldron had just exploded.

**A/N: Thank you for reading Chapter Two! How was it? Gory enough for you all?**

**Lord Ravenclaw II, there you go, Diagon Alley :P. The action isn't over yet, though, the fight hasn't even started yet! **

**Marinka, no, Ginny wasn't possessed by the Diary in her second year as, in a point that has yet to be made clear as far as I know, since Voldemort never fell, there was no need for Lucius Malfoy to use the horcrux! And as for Harry and Ginny's first meeting, well...you see :D Don't think she'll be too pleased with the number of dead bodies everywhere though...**

**Magery, you think this is going to be awesome? So do I :D! I can't wait to get well into the story, this chapter marks the beginning of it! Hope you enjoy this Dark Harry as much as I know I'll enjoy writing it!**

**That goes for all my readers as well! Hope you guys are enjoying the story so far, and looking forward to the next chapter! This chapter is actually a bit late, so sorry about that, but better late than never, right?**

**Until the next chapter (where we find out what happened to the Twins and Ginny!),**

**PowerOfOne**


	3. Chapter 3 - Enter, Stranger

**Chapter Three - Enter, Stranger, But Take Heed**

The roar of the flames, the moans of the fallen and the screams of the terrified residents fleeing for their lives seemed unending to Harry's ears. They drilled into his mind, an unceasing cacophony of sound that had neither beginning nor end, so jumbled together that he could scarcely distinguish one from the next. Such sounds, coupled with flickering orange tongues reaching for the sky, deep red rivers of blood barely visible in the tinted light and the corpses, strewn about like abandoned mannequins, made up the environment in which Harry found himself.

All around him, his Father's Death Eaters wreaked havoc wherever and whenever they could, crumbling buildings, starting fires, cutting down any who dared oppose them. The best of his Father's men could not be matched by these untrained fools, and Harry watched with an impassive eye as a woman still dressed in her nightgown was disarmed by Rabastan Lestrange. She was given no opportunity to recover, and the next Killing Curse flung her lifeless corpse down the street to land beside that of her husband. Bellatrix, the one responsible for killing the man, laughed into the night as she surveyed the hole she had blown through his chest.

He turned his attention further down the street, to a batch of fierce duels that appeared to have no victor. Severus Snape gave his wand a complicated twirl and his opponent, an ebony haired Asian girl who looked as though she was barely of age, shrieked as her wand fell from her nerveless fingertips. Harry raised his eyebrows, a cold expression settling on his face as he saw Snape turn away rather than finish her off, but unfortunately, he couldn't exactly catch the man's attention without shouting his name, which for anonymity's sake wasn't the best idea.

Instead, he pointed his wand for the second time that night and the sickly green of jet of the Killing Curse erupted from his wand. Before it could hit, however, a light haired man jerked her out of the way, leaving the spell to dig a hole in the cobblestone where the girl had been only seconds before. Just before the twosome disappeared into the chaos, her eyes found her assailant and widened in fear. Harry's lip curled beneath his mask. He could go find her and finish the job, but he really couldn't be bothered. With a flick, he snapped the girl's fallen wand where it lay, and turned his attention elsewhere.

It wasn't exactly correct to state that the Death Eaters were winning the fight, for the residents of Diagon Alley weren't putting up much of one to begin with. He checked the time on the gold plated pocket watch his Father had gifted him. It had been barely fifteen minutes since the mission had begun, and already, much of the famous Wizarding Shopping Street had become nothing more than smouldering piles of rubble. The few stores that were still standing due to the rudimentary protective wards and enchantments erected thanks to the foresight of their owners would soon follow in the way of their neighbours.

That, Harry thought, a sneer crossing his face at the very thought, would teach the Minister and all the other buffoons to belittle us as a small problem...

Unfortunately, he never had the opportunity to raise these last buildings to the ground. After fifteen minutes without any significant opposition against the Death Eaters rampaging through Diagon Alley, it seemed the time that Harry had bought with the timing of his attack was finally up. The Ministry of Magic, or rather, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had finally gotten their act together, and with a volley of loud cracks, scores of Witches and Wizards in crimson robes Apparated into hell.

Harry never hesitated, and following his example, neither did most of the Death Eaters. Before many of the new arrivals had any time to take in their surroundings and overcome the horror they felt at the wanton destruction they saw, they found themselves at the receiving end of some of the darkest curses known to mankind. Flashes of green, red and orange flew through the air, some claiming more than victim, and erasing almost a third of the Aurors. The rest managed to react in time and protected themselves with anything they could manage, from spell shields to pieces of rubble.

Even with the success of the first attack, however, the Death Eaters were still greatly outnumbered, perhaps even two to one. Harry raised his wand, the order for an unrestrained attack on the tip of his tongue, when the inexplicable occurred, seeming comopletely out of place in the middle of a battlefield still littered with the broken bodies of the dead and dying, fires throwing their crackling light into the night sky.

Silence fell.

Or at least, as much silence as could be gained at the present moment. No one, not a single Death Eater nor a single Auror, spoke, and even the groans of the fallen seemed to fade away, drowned out by the roar of the flames that covered Diagon Alley in their flickering orange glow. The two sides were at an impasse, both wary of the other, and unwilling to make the first move. Without making a sound, the Death Eaters, who had been spread out all over the street and had made a rough circle around the Aurors, drifted back to form a phalanx in front of Harry, their wands at the ready to hold their opponents at bay.

Harry felt a stab of annoyance. Not following up on the initial attack had left the Death Eaters at a significant numerical disadvantage without the element of barely restrained chaos to back them up. With more Auror reinforcements surely on their way, the battle had quickly become unwinnable. Nonetheless, he wordlessly made his way to the front, the men parting before him like water at a wave of his left hand, before closing up ranks once he'd passed.

He swept his gaze over the Aurors, knowing that his black mask gave nothing away, not even the movements of his eyes. He could see the tension that lined their faces, and he heard the murmur that passed through them when he had made himself visible. The strange calm that had entered the battlefield had given them an opportunity to observe him and realise that he was different to the Death Eaters that stood at his back.

Good, Harry thought, his entire body coiled and ready to act at a moments' notice. Uncertainty would only hinder their actions. Before he could speak, however, the voice of one of the Aurors ran out instead.

"We are Aurors of the Ministry of Magic of Great Britain! All of you are under arrest and are to drop your wands immediately!" the man hollered, stepping forwards as though expecting to accept a surrender.

Harry could tell from the man's expression that despite his actions, the man knew very well that a surrender was not going to be forthcoming. Behind him, the Witches and Wizards prepared themselves; behind him, Harry heard the Death Eaters doing the same. The two sides were like drawn bows, only waiting for the release of the arrow. He decided to provide that release.

"Death Eaters, prepare to retreat." Though he had not shouted, his words ran loud and clear in the air, the enchantments on his mask once again making them deeper than they actually were. "Our Lord's mission here is done."

* * *

Perhaps it was because she hadn't entered the Floo Network in upright position, or maybe it was because the Network wasn't made to handle more than person at the same time from the same gate. Either way, this was the bumpiest Floo ride Ginny had ever experienced. There seemed to be more ash than usual, so much so that she could see nothing but blackness. Her body was shaken to and fro like a ragdoll, sending her elbows and knees knocking painfully into hard brick more times than she could count. It was naturally a much tighter fit than usual, because Fred was right there next to her, but Ginny was glad that he was, because Ginny had no idea where she was or when she should get ready to step out.

Suddenly, she felt Fred move, as though he was reaching out. There was a jolt far more painful than any of the bruises she had sustained so far from the trip, and she blasted out of the fireplace. Unable to control their momentum, she and Fred shot along floor of the dingy pub, hitting what seemed like every single chair and table in the room. Finally, lying amongst a heap of wood that had once been furniture, she came to a stop, her brother not far from her.

Woozily, she regained her feet. Beside her, Fred pushed himself upright using a stool leg like a walking stick. He turned to her, an annoyed expression on his face, but before he could utter a single syllable, a yell of pain from outside caught their attention with its familiarity.

"Oh no, that's-" Fred said, his face whitening. Ginny didn't wait for him to finish his sentence. Her wand in her hand, she leapt over a collapsed table and raced towards the portal to Diagon Alley. "Come on!" she cried as she flew through the door, hearing Fred's heavier footsteps right behind her.

The wall normally covering the entrance was gone, blasted away, judging by the blacked bricks around it. Bricks, both shattered and intact, littered the floor of the 'backyard' of the pub, evidence that the force had come from the other side, not that it was needed. Two Death Eaters stood over a prone body with bright orange hair, their cackling audible even over the din, taking turns at shooting minor curses at their victim. Both looked up as Ginny appeared and without thinking shot of a spell from her wand.

One of the Death Eaters twirled his own wand in a complex pattern with lighting speed, blocking the incoming curse with a transparent shield that let out a deep, reverberating gong. His partner followed up with a flick, causing Ginny to cry out as she was suddenly pelted with rubble. Cowering and unable to retaliate without being hit in the face, she was forced to retreat, but had moved only a few steps when Fred ran out in front of her and cried "EXPULSO!"

The spell shoved the bricks away violently, sending them soaring back towards the Death Eaters, who barely managed to get out of the way in time, moving in opposite directions. Ginny didn't waste any of her respite, turning and shooting curse after curse at the Death Eater on the left, while hearing Fred do the same on the right.

At first, the duel seemed to be even, but it quickly became apparent that the Death Eaters were only toying with them. Fred was flung to the floor with a grunt first. His opponent, however, made no move to capitalise on the victory and finish him off, choosing instead to turn to Ginny. She saw him out of the corner of her eye, but couldn't do anything in time as she was too busy blocking the spells of her own opponent. The next moment, she found herself thrown into the air, landing awkwardly on her side with an involuntary yelp.

Her wand had fallen out of her grasp with her landing, and she watched helplessly as one of the Death Eaters ambled leisurely towards her, head cocked to one side as though he was observing a particularly interesting animal or insect.

"Well, well," he said, amusement evident in his tone, "what do we have here? You're out late, aren't you, sweetheart?"

Ginny tried to get to her feet, but the Death Eater pointed his wand at her. "I think you should stay down there, my dear. Crucio!"

She felt her blood boiling. Liquid flames surged through her veins, igniting every single nerve she had until she felt as though she was made up of nothing but pain. A scream built up in her throat, but she clamped her lips shut determinedly even as she twitched – no way was she gong to a Death Eater the pleasure of hearing her scream. Despite her best efforts, however, she couldn't hold it back. She needed a release. Her body needed a release. Her ears picked up on an a terrible screeching, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she realised that it was coming from her, that she was the one making such an inhuman sound.

Then it stopped. Ginny lay there, her throat burning and her muscles still twitching, gasping for breath. Her torturer was still in front of her, but the man had turned his attention elsewhere.

"Oi!" he was shouting his companion, "We need to go! Everyone's gathering at the bank!"

The man's partner sounded his agreement, and together, the two pointed their wands, not at their fallen victims, but at the put itself. Ginny couldn't hear what incantations they used, but blue flames shot out of their wands, latching hungrily onto the sides of the Leaky Cauldron and flying eagerly through its doorway. The two didn't even stop to admire their handiwork before they departed at a jog down the street. The second man did turn, briefly, however, to warn them "Don't get yourselves mixed up in our affairs again! Next time you won't be so lucky!"

Gingerly, Ginny stood up and hobbled over to George. She couldn't help but gasp when she saw him properly. His face was covered in blood, and his nose was apparently broken, but the worst part, which nearly made her gag, was his wrist, which was facing entirely the wrong direction. His legs, both of them, were twisted and broken, the bones of his right shin literally sticking out of his trousers. Thankfully, despite his ordeal, he appeared to be merely unconscious.

Fred wasn't much better off, but at least he was awake. His left arm was flopped to the ground, and blood was seeping through his shirt from the gash across his chest. "It's n...not...deep," he murmured, when he caught sight of her face. "I'm...fine."

"Like hell you are!" Ginny retorted, rolling her eyes, "Can you Apparate? And can you take George as well? You both need to get to St. Mungos right now!"

It seemed Fred didn't want to spare the energy to talk, but he nodded, to Ginny's relief. Had he shaken his head instead, she would have had no idea how she would've gotten the two of them to safety.

"Alright, wait here," she told Fred, moving back to Geroge. Carefully, trying to jar his mangled as little as possible, she managed to half carry, half drag him over to his twin. She was thankful that he was unconscious, because her actions would have caused him considerable pain. No more than he's felt already, she thought, feeling her throat begin to close up. No tears. Not until this is over.

With that declaration held firmly in her mind, she managed to lay George next to Fred so that Fred could hold onto him, and stepped back.

"Come...with?" Fred asked breathlessly, but Ginny shook her head.

"It's already a risk for you to Apparate by yourself, not to mention take George as well!" She told him, swallowing heavily, "We don't have a choice thought, at least not for the two of you...I've got to find Dad."

Fred's eyes bored into her, as though trying to tell her to change his mind, but both of them knew that wasn't going to happen. Fred sighed and nodded almost imperceptibly. "Good luck."

With a crack, the twins disappeared. Ginny turned towards the direction of Gringotts. She might need to check every...body, and she didn't have time to waste staring at the place where her two brothers once were.

* * *

Harry had meant for he and his men to Apparate away. However, before he had finished his sentence, several things happened almost simultaneously, throwing the world around him into chaos once more.

Bellatrix flung a dark purple curse at the man who had spoken for the Aurors. Her wand work was so fast that it took everyone, even Harry, by surprise, flinging the man's body high into the air to land amongst his comrades. The Aurors roared with outrage and began flinging curses back.

Another series of pops ran out, and even more Aurors appeared along the street, their wands at the ready. They didn't hesitate to jump into the fray, and the Death Eaters, as good as they happened to be, began to fall under the overwhelming onslaught.

Even further back, more people Apparated in. Most of these were not wearing the crimson read robes typical of a Ministry Auror, and did not have the physique of one. Nonetheless, they, too, leapt fearlessly into the conflict as the Death Eaters were forced up the steps of Gringott's Bank. Amongst this particular groups of new arrivals was a tall, ancient looking Wizard with a waist length beard and half-moon spectacles, over which his blue eyes were observing the scene with icy anger. Dumbledore.

The most powerful Wizard in the world raised his wand and cried out something unintelligible in the confusion. Harry didn't need to hear him to know what it was however, because soon, lines of blood red streamed his wand and formed a dome that stretched over the entire street. Wards, and, as Harry attempted to Apparate, he realised they were for the disabling of further Apparition.

Had Harry had the time to swear, he would have done so, quite proficiently with many synonyms. He was, however, quite preoccupied with killing as many people as he could. Spells from his wand always struck fast and true, felling opponents left and right. Though his Death Eaters were steadily retreating towards the closed doors of the bank, Harry refused to move, and covered their retreat, knowing that he was probably the only person who could.

His duelling skill was infallible, and though at one point he counted at least ten Aurors all aiming at him, he simply held up the strongest shield he could and waited for an opportunity. Such an opportunity came when Rabastan noticed the plight of his leader and sent a blasting curse in to help. Due to the sheer number of people, bad planning on the Ministry's part, the curse hit many more than just ten people, allowing Harry to easily use to drop seven opponents in quick succession.

Harry was never able to count the exact number as he never had a long enough chance to, but he guessed he had at least twelve men standing. At least four of his original twenty had managed to disappear before the Anti-apparition wards had been dropped, and the other four had fallen. Despite this, had Dumbledore not arrived, victory might have been distinctly possible, even outnumbered as they were. Harry was by no means arrogant, thanks to the constant losses he had faced duelling against his Father, but then again, his Father was an extraordinary Wizard and, against these ordinary ones, he was sure he could pick up the slack.

However, Dumbledore was here. Even on his best days, Harry couldn't be sure he could defeat the man, as old and foolish as he was. Unfortunately, he didn't have a choice about duelling him, if he wanted any of his men to get out of the Mission without being captured and so, hesitating only slightly he strode forwards to meet him. Some of the Aurors tried to curse him as he made his way forwards, and Harry dealt with them appropriately, one of his blasting curses blowing a man's head off. Even at such a distance, he could see Dumbledore wince, and felt another sneer uncontrollably sliding onto his face. The strongest general the light side had to offer apparently did not have the stomach for war.

Very soon, everyone, both the Death Eaters as well as the Aurors and Dumbledore's people, seemed to realise where the man in the black mask was heading and even moved out of the way for him. No one dared engage him, as he had yet to sustain a single scratch, and if Dumbledore couldn't defeat him, then really, there was no hope after all. Up on the steps, where the most heated duels were taking place while those behind them struggled to find a clear shot, both Death Eaters and their opponents faltered in their actions, their attention drawn to the impending clash.

Dumbledore's expression was grave as moved to face Harry. His face had taken on an ashen colour as he observed the bloody corpses around him.

"Who are you?" He inquired quietly, his electric blue eyes fixed unwaveringly on the empty black holes in Harry's mask.

Harry opened his mouth, but wasn't quite sure how to respond. He'd never had to introduce himself before, to anyone. To give himself time to think, he decided to answer with a question of his own.

"Why would you care? I am your opponent tonight, Dumbledore. That, is all."

Dumbledore didn't speak, but Harry felt a wave of magical energy pulse through the air. It was strong, the strongest he had ever felt, and the Wizard seemed to pulse with crackling energy.

"I have only seen a few people capable of the violence you have wrought here today, and of those, only one, Tom Riddle, remains free to cause it...and you are not him. Tell me, do you feel no remorse for the pain and suffering that is your doing?"

"What an idiotic notion," Harry snorted derisively, shaking his head. "This is war, even if the pathetic Ministry refuses to acknowledge it as such! And in war, innocent people get hurt, unarmed people die. Do you know how many people the American's killed when the firebombed Japan in World War Two? How many more when their two atomic bombs detonated?"

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose fractionally, but then his expression changed, looking even more drawn and sadder than it had before.

"Then you leave me no choice." He stated with finality, raising his wand. Harry followed suit, apprehension filling his mind. Ruthlessly, he shoved it aside. Now was not the time, he told himself.

If there was supposed to be a signal to mark the beginning of the duel, then Harry surely missed it, for all he knew was that one moment, all present was silent, and the next, Dumbledore had opened fire.

"Incarcerous!" Long, thick ropes flew through the air, looking remarkably like snakes as they twisted towards their target.

"Abscissia!" The single spell Harry cast sliced easily through every single rope, causing them to flop uselessly to the ground, and continued on its way. It would have cut Dumbledore in half, but the man twirled smoothly out of the way as though he was dancing to a music that only he could hear.

Everyone knew how powerful Dumbledore was as Wizard, which was why Harry was surprised the man would vocalise his incantations. He must be trying to test me, Harry realised, and indeed, this seemed to be the case, for Dumbledore's attacks steadily grew in strength. At first, Harry could counter them with little effort and send something back in return, but soon, he had no choice but to cast shield after shield, throwing himself out of the way of curses that he didn't recognise, some silent now, or ones that he failed to block.

"Obligandi Ultima!"

"Penscartem!" It was one of the most powerful shields he knew, but it could not hold up to the pure power behind Dumbledore's attacks, hurling Harry backwards to land at the feet of his men. Though he was largely unhurt, and the binding spell had failed to take hold, it wasn't a good image to have, and he growled in frustration.

"Totanimatem!" The spell wouldn't be very effective against any Wizard worth his salt, but it would buy him some time to get to his feet, and that was all Harry needed. There was no beam of light from his wand, for this was not a combat spell, but rather a feat of transfiguration. Dumbledore began shooting spell after spell at Harry, who was still on the ground. He had to roll out of one, two, then three spells before he properly regained his feet. Dumbledore tried to attack again, his expression determined, but he never got the chance, for a massive fist, made out of the destroyed bricks and stones, slammed itself into his hastily erected shield, sending him flying. Harry, who probably couldn't have blocked another attack anyway, breathed a sigh of relief as, in front of him, the four massive golems roared as one.

* * *

Ginny Weasley moved down the street as quickly as her injuries would allow, feeling her stomach churning as she inspected any bodies she could find. Some of them were so grotesquely damaged that they were nearly unrecognisable. So far, she hadn't found a single survivor, but fortunately, she hadn't found her father either. She clutched her wand in a death grip, her fingers clasped so tight that she was almost scared she would snap the thin stick, all too well aware the unremarkable stick of wood could be her only protection from death at any moment.

Since the incident outside the Leaky, however, she hadn't had to use it yet, for there was not a single living soul in sight.

Thankfully, since it was basically in the middle of the night, she hadn't seen any children amongst the fallen, but she suspected sadly that it was only a matter of time, for, surely, at least one of the residents of Diagon Alley had children of their own...

And then, she saw the gathering. It had been previously hidden from her view thanks to the slight curve of the street, but suddenly, she found herself caught amongst a massive crowd of crimson robes.

They surged forwards as one like some sort of massive man powered machine, and everywhere around her, wands rose into the air. The attack was anything but organised, and a wide variety of curses were cast, lighting the air green, blue, white orange. Some of the spells erupted with a bang, others were silent, some Aurors, for Aurors they must be, voiced their incantations out loud and others without a sound, creating a world of organised chaos in which Ginny was caught. Though she couldn't see who the Aurors were attacking, there was only one likely possibility, really...

Despite her best efforts, Ginny found herself being pushed to the front of the group. She fought back, shoving anyone in front of her out of the way as she tried to break out of the torrent of bodies, but no one was paying attention to anyone else in the massive brawl, and she was carried forwards, bouncing off chests, elbows, knees, sometimes nearly falling, but before she ever could, she'd be pushed upright again as the Aurors moved forwards again.

It was a stampeded, one that seemed be off and on with no warning, making Ginny feel as though she would never be free of its grip. Naturally, as soon as she had such a thought, a wave of silence seemed to fall over the gathering, a pulse of soundlessness that seemed to spread from the front, where the fighting was heaviest, all the way to the back, so that even those who weren't quite sure what was happening paused in their struggles to try and observe what they could. A tension slipped into the air unnoticed, causing the atmosphere to almost hum with energy, the anticipation and nervousness almost tangible.

Ginny, too, was caught up in it. At the very time when it would have been easiest to slip through the motionless Aurors and make her way out of the throng to wait for the situation to calm, she stopped trying to get away. In the sudden lull in noise, she heard a familiar voice ask quietly, "Who are you?"

Professor Dumbledore! Ginny thought, a thrill of fear passing through her body. There was only one person she could think of that Dumbledore would duel one on one, while everyone watched, if any sane Witch or Wizard could even call him a person at all. She couldn't see what was going on, as she was still some ways from the front, and could only pick up bits and pieces of whatever conversation was taking place. Nevertheless, the start of the duel was unmistakable, easily intelligible even over the roar of the flames.

"Incarcerous!"

"Abscissia!"

Despite the fight going on, no one else moved a muscle. The Aurors, and some who were not in crimson robes, had their wands out and ready, yet no body made a move to attack. From the lack of other voices, Ginny assumed that the Death Eaters were holding back as well, for what reason she could not fathom, and yet, she couldn't bring herself to twitch anymore than her neighbours.

Again and again, explosions, ringing and sharp bangs blew into the night sky, and still Ginny stood almost at attention, her body ready to move and yet her mind unable to do so. The waves of magical energy, she realised, were what held the crowd in place – though they could, physically, move, they could never bring themselves to.

She could never pinpoint how long the duel was, in hindsight. Apparently, it had lasted almost ten minutes. All she did know was that, at some point in its duration, spells from Voldemort became rarer and rarer as the Dark Wizard seemed to begin to focus primarily on defence, leaving Dumbledore to send curse after curse at his opponent. Surely, Ginny wondered, that meant the battle is nearly over? Dumbledore was winning!"

That thought flew from her head quickly at the sound of a terrific crash and, from what she could see, Dumbledore was sent flying backwards. She was so surprised that the venerable headmaster had been knocked off his feet that she was completely unprepared for what happened next.

She couldn't tell who made the first sound, but a deafening roar rose up amongst the Aurors when they saw the man who they considered their leader fell. Like rolling thunder, they stormed forwards, bringing Ginny Weasley with them.

* * *

Harry knew already that the Golems were only going to buy him a few seconds, a minute at most. However, they lasted even less time than he had expected because the crowd of Aurors and vigilantes, who had until then been nothing but spectators, suddenly surged forwards, their battle cries shaking the air itself. It was difficult to tell who destroyed his creations, but only one of them managed to swing a fist, dealing what looked like a killing blow to four men at the same time, before they were blown apart so completely that no trace of them remained.

Golems, however, were stupid, thoughtless creations. Trying to take on the son of the Dark Lord, however, was another matter entirely.

Ignoring his pain, Harry dove into the midst of his opponents, all of whom hesitated at this unusual move. Had they thought about it, they would have realised it made perfect sense, for now many of them didn't dare cast any spells lest they hit their own. They didn't have a chance to think, however, because most of them suddenly found themselves quite preoccupied with fending off deadly attacks, on the ground severely injured or, even worse, dead, their lifeless corpses never knowing how they had met their end.

Harry never wasted time watching his spells hit their targets. He was on autopilot, his wand a blur, shooting spell after spell into the small defensive circle that had formed around him. Just as before, he knew that even this new tactic couldn't last forever. Though they didn't attack, such indecision wouldn't last long once their casualties mounted, especially once Dumbledore got to his feet again.

He turned, ripping a man's arm off with a flick of his wand and killing another with the Killing Curse as he ducked away from five other attacks at the same time and then he saw it. The building of white marble to which he'd had his back to the whole time, the steps of which eight of his Father's best were still gathered, shooting deadly spells into clusters of Aurors and sending them diving apart, dead or dying.

Gringotts. The most secure building in all of the Wizarding World, except perhaps Hogwarts. Protected by Goblin Magic. Impenetrable.

Suddenly, he knew what he had to do. The doors were open, but the Death Eaters could, if they needed to, only get as far as the foyer, because the rest of the bank was in lock down. The foyer was all they needed, for the time being, however. They needed a respite.

Knowing he didn't have much time, if any left, Harry made a split second decision. Steadily, he began retreating backwards, still killing opponents as he want, mentally preparing himself for the curse he needed to cast. Before he could cast it, however, he caught a flash of vibrant red and turned his head, momentarily distracted.

A young, red-headed girl had somehow found herself caught up in the chaos, her small body unable to break through the wall of Aurors that were, inadvertently, pressing her forwards towards the Death Eaters. She looked light, so much so that Harry had no doubt he'd be able to carry her if he wanted to one handed, and that, he reasons, was perfect for this situation.

With ease, he blasted the ten or so Wizards to his left out of the way, sending them flying over the heads of their comrades, who retaliated with all manner of spells, some even borderline dark. Lacking the power of Dumbledore, however, they did nothing but get absorbed into his shield, which hummed with the captured energy. In two graceful, half leaping steps, he was beside the girl, who had her wand raised but seemed unable to get a single spell of. Her eyes were wide with fright and fixed on his face. Close up, Harry realised she couldn't be that much younger than him, perhaps a year at most.

With no time to examine her further, he reached out with one hand, easily catching her around the middle, turning her around and pulling her flush against him. As he hoped and expected, his opponents faltered, their expression startled. It was clear that, due to the ruthlessness and abandon with which their opponent had fought, a hostage situation had never even been considered. They were unsure how to react, probably since most of them hadn't even realised there had been a young girl amongst them in the first place.

The Aurors might have faltered, but Harry certainly didn't. The girl in his arms struggled, but he managed to ignore her struggles and kicks long enough to do what he had to.

"IGNIFENDA!" He roared, his wand held aloft over the girls shoulder. It shuddered violently, almost as though it was about to explode before, without warning, fire began to pour out of the tip like smoke, or perhaps more accurately, like water. He aimed it at the general direction of the Aurors, who were forced to duck for cover, their shields not lasting more than ten seconds in the face of such powerful heat.

Some weren't so lucky, their blackened corpses lost in the fiery tongues that reached hungrily for more victims. Fiendfyre was difficult to control at the calmest of times, and Harry made no attempt to do so now. He heard screaming, and realised it was the girl, but he took no notice of her as he hauled her unwilling form up the steps.

"INTO THE BANK! GO!" The Death Eaters, what remained of them, needed no further prompting. Wordlessly, they leapt backwards into the foyer even as Harry flew through in their midst. The Fiendfyre that he had not tried to control looked as though it had been halted – Dumbledore no doubt – and now reached backwards, realising there were more victims to be found there.

Harry threw the girl he was still carrying way from him and channelled magic through both his left hand as well as his wand. It was difficult to overcome Goblin magic, but he wasn't truly breaking enchantments, just influencing them, and after a moment, his efforts began to pay off. Slowly, and then faster, the grand doors of Gringotts rumbled as they began to swung closed.

As thought the Fiendfyre could sense that its prey was getting away, it jumped towards the room, taking the form of a dragon. For a moment, Harry thought he was going to be too late, and the snout of the dragon managed to reach beyond the doorway.

Then the doors slammed shut. The boom echoed throughout the room as silence, absolute silence for the first time that night, fell upon the room. The fiery snout, cut off from the rest of the dragon, seemed to twist in mid air, before smoking away.

Harry let himself breathe out a long sigh, feeling the aches and pains he had gained for the first time. His immaculate robes had been singed by spellfire but, fortunately there didn't seem to be any physical damage to his person.

And, for the moment, anyway, Gringotts was under Death Eater control.

* * *

**A/N: HOLY...IT IS DONE! This is my longest chapter...ever! 6.2k words wow, I can't believe it myself. When I started this chapter, I planned for Harry to meet Ginny, and take her into Gringotts, at the end of only 4k words lol, so this is one and a half times as long, but I really couldn't make it any shorter, not that I want to. In fact I think the Ginny parts should be longer so that it's more realistic, but then again, that's just me I guess...**

**Two things to clear up before I start the next chapter - **

**Thing One: Harry is, most definitely, unquestionably, evil in this story, so far. Not the mislead young boy evil, but the takes pleasure in pain, want to kill people, looks down on weak opponents evil. Having been raised by Voldemort himself, I find it difficult to imagine that someone can be still good on the inside...**

**Thing Two: Why did Ginny, Fred and George go to Diagon Alley only to be defeated so easily? Well these are Voldemort's best men, not the run of the mill Death Eaters. They didn't know that, so they went anyway, but they didn't stand a chance, because they don't have Harry to teach them to duel!**

**Crazy With A Book: Welcome to the story! I'm glad you're enjoying it so much, I love writing this :D In my opinion it's going better than my other story, but I'll finish both of course. Hope you stick with this one to the end!**

**Until the next chapter,**

**PowerOfOne**


	4. Chapter 4: The Sin Of Greed

**For the first time, I have a warning to put out: there are around 3-5 paragraphs towards the bottom that involve Nazis and Hitler, which may prove to be offensive to some readers. I would like to state that, naturally, no offence whatsoever was intended in the writing...**

**Chapter Four: Of What Awaits The Sin Of Greed**

As a result of the time, as well as the attack, Gringotts had been placed in full lockdown. The front doors had been forced closed. The back doors, leading to the monstrous, dimly lit caverns holding all the gold in the Wizarding world had disappeared entirely. At that moment, Gringotts bank consisted only of the mostly deserted lobby.

In complete silence, the last few embers from the fiery dragon floated harmlessly to the floor. Despite being cut off from their source, they sparked and glowed with life, futilely clinging to the remainder of their. Their expiration was enrapturing in its soundlessness, fading away with a sudden, final flare that lit up the entire lobby and caused a wave heat to wash over the room.

Eventually, the luminosity and warmth faded away. Only then did he relax, letting the tension drain out of his tightly coiled muscles.

His cloak had been damaged by the flames, and parts of it had been singed by stray spells. He discarded it, having no need for its warmth, which could be substituted for by spells. His father could replace with a single word, or he could do it himself; right now, it only got in the way.

Before the tattered black fabric had even settled on the cold marble floor, Harry was already in motion. His hands swept through their air in slow swirls and lighting jabs, his fists clenching and unclenching as though he was the conductor of an orchestra visible only to him. Though the rest of his body remained as motionless as though it had been carved out of the same marble as that of the bank, his arms never stopped moving, never hesitated. To his remaining men, he surely looked like he had gone mad, no wand in his hand, no incantation to be heard, no effect appearing from his motions.

But Harry ignored them all. He had a task to do now, one that would be instrumental in saving them all, and he needed no distractions. Even if the Death Eaters had dared to voice their doubts, he wouldn't have heard them, for his entire concentration was on the burnished bronze doors.

Seconds passed, and then half a minute. Forty seconds...forty-five...fifty...fifty-five...without a sound.

Then came the rattling. It was difficult to pinpoint exactly where the sound was coming from, for it seemed to originate from every darkened corner, every shadow, simultaneously so that no other noise could be heard save for the phantom chains – and phantom they certainly were for the next moment they appeared, translucent in appearance yet ominously dark. It wasn't the coloring, although mix of sickly green and murky black certainly played its part, but the even fainter, almost smoke-like tendrils that rose from the metal itself, curling and winding, at time stretching, reaching and grabbing for anything that was nearby. The chains appeared not from any particular direction, but out of mid-air, as though sliding and clinking dangerously out of a hole that only someone equally ethereal could see.

There were three of them, and they slithered towards the doors like serpents, twisting and writhing. Their snake-like appearance was only solidified by the loud _hiss_ that erupted when each of them finally touched the doors, audible even over the unceasing clanking of the metal links. The hissing, too, never stopped, so that when all three had made contact the _hiss_ became that much more pronounced, now more like a constant sizzling as though cold water was being poured over hot coals rather than the language of the serpents.

The reason for the sound quickly became evident. Holes quickly began appearing on the surface of the bronze wherever the chains had touched, and it became pretty clear that they were burning holes through the supposedly goblin wrought metal. The holes were perfectly sized for the chains, which proceeded to burn their way back through from the outside to form three evenly spaced circles, identical and yet not parallel, like longitudes on a globe, which was in fact not all that different from what the chains were doing. Together, they formed a sphere situated perfectly at the centre of the double doors and, without any need for further command, they began shrinking, the ball becoming smaller and smaller. Finally, they became no larger than a fist, then a tennis ball, even smaller, tiny now, and then they disappeared entirely, leaving no trace that they had ever been there.

Yet their mark had been left as Harry lowered their hands. The holes formed by the chains were conspicuously absent, as though they had never existed. Even those that had watched the chains appear, both on the outside as well as the inside, couldn't be certain that they had actually been there at all. The front doors of Gringotts were, after all, now completely untarnished...untarnished that is, except for the bold, black markings the chains had left in their wake, a six pointed asterisk on both sides of the thick metal.

"So," Harry drawled, turning to face the Death Eaters. Only seven stood before him. The others hadn't made it into the bank, and he had no idea whether they were dead or alive and captured. With great difficulty, he quashed the rage that he could feel welling up within him like magma from a volcano. Sooner or later, he was going to burst, but not now.

"Which one of you is a spy?" he questioned, aiming his wand at each of them in turn. "Nott? Avery? I was somewhat preoccupied, but I don't remember seeing you during the battle..."

"My Lord, I can assure you that I am completely faithful, utterly..."

"Please, my Lord, I would never..."

But Harry waved them off. He didn't think they were the traitors.

"What about you, McNair? This line of work too dangerous for you? Perhaps you believe that the Ministry would give you a better offer...you could go execute rogue animals for them instead, after the War is over? No? Gibson! Your wife died on the Dark Lords Orders...perhaps you resent his decision?"

As disturbing as each of them may be, Harry didn't even bother mentioning the Lestranges. Both brothers and Bellatrix were unquestionably loyal and worshipped the Dark Lord. With each of the other Death Eaters, however, he had probed their minds while he accused them, knowing that, should they be hiding anything, there was no way they could hope to conceal it from him. None of the rang any alarm bells.

"It seems that our little birdie isn't with us right now," Harry concluded, letting his Legilimency fade away. "But eventually, I'll find them. The Aurors were prepared today...they had many more men than I had expected, and Dumbledore was ready to cast his wards. _Someone squealed_."

At that moment, there was a huge _boom_ from the direction of Gringotts' front doors, as though someone had tried to blast it down.

"That should buy us at least an hour more," Harry said looking towards the doors. Before he had the chance to continue, there was a small _bang_ and a yelp of pain. He turned to see the red-headed girl he had used as a hostage sitting up from where she had fallen, clutching at her right wrist around which an ugly red burn was quickly developing. A wand – hers, Harry realized immediately – rolled forwards to stop at his feet. With their nerves still on edge and no one else to attack, the remaining seven Death Eaters had all chosen to gather around the prisoner. Despite the conclusive superiority of their skills and situation, however, the only curse sent forth was by Rabastan when he disarmed her.

Harry felt a trickle of annoyance creep into his mind. He had given very specific orders for his people to deal with complications...ruthlessly. Bellatrix had already disregarded his commands several times that night; surely the rest of them knew better? By all rights, the girl should be long dead, killed while he closed the doors.

He moved forwards towards the centre of the gathering, intending to ask just exactly what they were waiting for, but the girl beat him to it.

"W-well?" she snapped, with only the slightest quiver in her voice, "what are you pathetic cowards waiting for? You're going to kill me, right? Hurry up then, I don't like waiting!"

Harry paused, amused. He looked to the Death Eaters, his voice still disguised with as a deep rumble. "Indeed, what _are_ you fools waiting for? I suggest you heed the lady's request without delay...or at least remember _my words_ when I informed you to not delay your decisive actions..."

Bellatrix let out a sort of low growl and raised her wand. Sometime during the fight, she had discarded her mask, which was aesthetic at best since everyone knew who she was anyway, and donned another, a mask of thinly disguised bloodlust and cruelty. "Avada Kedavra!" she intoned, her eyes gleaming, but her aim was thrown off when her husband jerked her arm sharply. The sickly green jet of the killing curse missed by inches, burning a blackened hole next to the girl's leg. Unable to hold it in, the girl let out a gasp and flinched violently.

"Lestrange..." Harry said calmly, his voice quiet and his gaze moving to the girl's face. "I know she's pretty but if that's your only reason for saving her life then..." He left the threat unvoiced, but its implications were clear to everyone in the bank, even the girl, whose expression was now a strange mixture of disgust as well as fear.

_Ah_, Harry thought, barely restraining a chuckle, _it must have something to do with the notion of Lestrange thinking she's pleasing to the eye..._

It was true that neither of the Lestrange brothers were good looking, especially after their repeated stints in Azkaban. In fact, it wouldn't have been that far of a stretch to say that they were closer to the opposite ends of the scale, not to mention being thirty years older than the girl. Harry, on the other hand, had been right in guessing that he was quite closer to her age when he was outside the bank, and had to admit that her outward appearance was definitely quite fetching, with her pleasantly pale skin and vibrant red hair. Even covered by dust and a little blood splattered, Harry had the feeling that her flesh would be soft to the touch and her hair silky smooth.

But of course, that was just him, and his words to Lestrange had only been taunting in nature. Whatever the reason Rudolphus had for sparing the girl's life, lust most certainly wasn't it, and the man wasted no time in sounding his opinion.

"My Lord," he said with a small, deferential nod of his head in Harry's direction, "I spared her life because I believe she could be useful in helping us out of our current situation."

"Really, now," replied Harry, not even trying to hide his tone of disbelief as he observed the girl.

"Yes, my Lord, in fact she may prove to be vital," Rabastan spoke up. Harry, who was still trying to work out what Rudolphus was getting at, suspected that the man's brother had caught on already and was trying to claim some of the glory for himself. It was easy to who truly held the power in the family, for though Rabastan was younger, Rudolphus grudgingly became quiet and let Rabastan take the stage.

"The red-hair and the freckles, my Lord, are a dead giveaway," continued Rabastan, releasing his stance to face Harry fully, "There aren't many Witches who look like that, after all, especially around yo- I mean, her age. _She_ is Ginevra Molly Weasley, the only daughter and youngest of the blood-traitor Arthur Weasley."

Harry was now very glad he hadn't killed the girl himself when Rudolphus had stopped Bellatrix. "Arthur's youngest daughter, you say?" His mind was whirring as he considered the possibilities. Though he hadn't met the man himself (his Father hadn't even let him out of the Manor until this Mission), he'd certainly heard of him. All the heads of Magical Law Enforcement were infamous amongst the Death Eaters. There was Crouch, who was actually effective, became Minister of Magic even, before being murdered by his own son, posing as Mrs. Crouch. The head of the DMLE then went to Alastor Moody, who lost a leg and was forced to quit, and now worked directly for Dumbledore's mythical 'Order'. And then it went to Weasley, who had very little experience in the field, and been transferred from the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office or something. Apparently, he was the department head whose job was closes to that of the DMLE, but that was ridiculous of course. The entire ministry was.

His gaze again flicked towards the girl, Ginevra. She was very pretty, beautiful even. How much did Arthur value his daughter? A lot, certainly, but enough to let them go? As the head of the DMLE, he had to be familiar with what Death Eater's did to their _female_ prisoners, after all...not all of them did it, and he certainly didn't, but there would be others who would simply jump at the chance.

The Death Eaters held their positions as they waited for Harry to make a decision. They knew the consequences of speaking out of turn from first-hand experience, something that the Ginevra obviously didn't have, for her words disrupted his thoughts.

"If you're imagining trading me for your freedom, forget it," She said loudly, gazing around at her captors warily, "My father isn't that selfish. All of you deserve to rot in Azkaban for your crimes and who knows how many lives you lot going to prison could save?" Wincing, she let go of her wrist, and struggled to her feet. Harry noticed that her burn was getting worse, but that was quite normal for Dark spells. "So kill me or don't, it doesn't change anything."

"You don't want to bet on that, _little Weasley_," sneered Bellatrix, her eyes narrowing in distaste, "All that selfless crap can only bring a man so far, and I'm sure he'll reconsider when he learns that Greyback – heard of him? – he's been looking for a new toy recently..."

Harry watched as the girl paled slightly, but other than that didn't react. "It's what you do to all prisoners, isn't it? My Dad doesn't talk about it, but he's seen plenty of examples already. He must've learned about my capture by now and is expecting the worst. No matter what happens, he's going to be glad that I'm still alive, and if I die, well, then I die. You should just give yourselves up."

Harry couldn't help it and let out a snort that drew everyone's attention to him. This small girl, at least a head shorter than him, was wandless and surrounded by men whose morals, especially regarding women, were questionable at best, and she was trying to convince them to give up!

"_Miss Weasley_," he said silkily, watching from behind the blank eye sockets of his mask for any reaction from her at all, "I'm sure you'll find that fathers can be...quiet open to negotiation. Well, mine excepted, of course."

"Keep her alive," he said to the other Death Eaters, "and in good condition. I believe that the Aurors will be able be able to open a line of communication with us at any moment."

Right on time, green flames burst into life from the fireplace at the end of the room. With a practiced mix of nonchalance and gravity, Harry strode over to greet the visitor, but never got out the words.

"You aren't Head Auror Weasley." He said instead, gazing at the Floo. The man there was definitely not a Weasley. He was bald, not balding but cleanly bald, and a solemn expression was fixed upon his face. It was difficult to tell from the Floor, of course, but judging by the man's appearance, Harry suspected the man he was talking to was dark-skinned, rather than pale.

"No, I'm not," the man agreed calmly, examining Harry's black visage as though trying to commit it to memory, "I am Deputy Head Auror Shacklebolt. The Head of the DMLE is currently...preoccupied."

"Well then tell him to get his priorities straight!" Harry snapped, waving his men forwards. Ginevra was flanked by the Lestrange brothers, who had at some point had tied her hands behind her back, and were gripping her arms so tightly that Harry was sure she'd bruise, but she didn't give any indication that she could feel the pain. "We have his daughter. I don't think I need to say any more."

A flicker of worry passed over Shacklebolt's face, but it disappeared again behind a blank mask so quickly that had Harry not been waiting for such an indication, he wouldn't have seen it at all.

"Are you hurt, miss?" Shacklebolt asked, trying to Ginevra better from his position. At Harry's signal, the Lestranges brought her right up next to him.

"No, I'm-" Before she could say anything else, Rabastan slapped her across the face, eliciting a cry of pain. Harry felt a little of the rage he still had bottled up within him begin to leak and, without a second's thought, whipped his wand through the air, sending the man colliding painfully with the Head Teller's marble desk.

"I said," he growled, looking towards the duo still standing, "that she is not to be harmed! Yet, anyway..." He turned back just in time to see the last vestiges of the stricken expression fade from Shacklebolt's face, and grinned, knowing that no one could see it. If he had any doubts before this, they were certainly dispelled now. Shacklebolt _knew_ Ginevra, beyond the office. _Family friend, maybe_?

"Now," he said to the Auror in a condescending tone, "Why don't you go fetch the Arthur Weasley?"

Shacklebolt hesitated. The Auror was staring at Harry, and Harry stared right back. Neither flinched; Harry's face was hidden by mask, and the Auror's face was the mask. After a long pause, Shacklebolt broke first, as Harry had known he would. That, after all, was the problem with the so called 'Light' side. They lacked the conviction necessary for war, the ability to sacrifice as many men as needed for the greater good. How could they, when they couldn't even sacrifice one young girl?

"Unfortunately, Arthur Weasley is currently indisposed." Shacklebold admitted, his tone hard. "You should know about it, it was your people that almost killed him!"

Ginny obviously tried not to react, but was only partly successful and the squeak she let out was slightly muffled. Harry ignored her as he processed this information. He _might_ have seen red-hair at some point on someone else other than Ginevra that night, but he wasn't too sure anymore. With Shacklebolt here, it didn't matter too much, anyway.

"Well then I guess I'll just have to deal with you, instead." Harry conceded with an air of reluctance, before suddenly going in for the kill. "But it doesn't matter much, does it? You aren't exactly impartial after all...don't give me any rubbish, you _know_ Ginevra."

He had to admit, Shacklebolt was good at his job. His words didn't even faze the Auror, whose 'surprised' reaction consisted only of a single blink. "Yes, I do. The way I see it, we can help each other here but only if you listen to me. I don't want Miss Weasley harmed in any way. I-"

Harry cut over him easily. "No, no, no. I don't think you understand, Head Auror. I do the talking. You do the listening...and the obeying. If you don't, then I'm afraid Miss Weasley here might be returned to you as...damaged goods."

Shacklebolt looked as though he was about to protest, but seemed to think better of it at the last second and closed his mouth. Harry nodded in approval. "That's better," he nodded in approval, squatting down in front of the fire. "Now, listen very carefully...Miss Weasley's wellbeing depends on it."

"I don't suppose you would be so kind as to let us simply walk out of this room, alive, at any rate. That's fine. Arthur Weasley might have, but then again, Ginevra is his weakness, not yours. I do wonder how, or rather if, he can ever forgive you if you let something happen to his little girl, of course."

"That being said, I'm sure you still have some communication with the Goblins, do you not? Convince them to open the lower levels of Gringotts to us. Let them turn on their defenses, if they want, but their doors will open in half an hour...or dear Ginevra _will_ die. This is an either or situation. _No compromises_."

"You can't be serious!" Shacklebolt objected, staring out of the fire incredulously. "I can't convince an entire race to bend to you whims for the life of one girl!"

"You will try." Harry told him coldly. "You will try because that girl is your Ginevra. The Goblins will not be defenseless – they can do what they like after the doors are open." As soon as he finished his sentence, he flicked his wand. There was a roar as the fire seemed to suddenly intensify, but a second later it went out completely. On the other side, Harry knew, Deputy Head Auror Shacklebolt would have just been forcefully ejected, and the thought brought a chuckle bubbling up from his chest. He forcefully stopped it from reaching his vocal cords.

Rabastan Lestrange had regained his feet and retaken his position by Ginevra's side. His brother, Rudolphus, hadn't even taken a single step from his. Harry gestured for them to join the other Death Eaters, who had gathered in the centre of the room and treated what few injuries they had during the wait. The Lestrange brothers pushed their prisoner over to row of desks on the left and left her stuck there with a wave of Rabastan's wand. Harry waited until they had joined the circle before he spoke.

"Listen up. The Aurors have blocked our only exit. Dumbledore is there, not to mention what appears to be every single actively Auror, both retired and in service, as well as random commoners that might be part of the so-called 'Order'. Silence greeted Harry's words. All three Lestranges had abandoned their masks, the brothers turning them back into smoke with a wave of their wands, but the others were only doing so now, and couldn't control their emotions nearly as well, exposing their fear and uncertainty, which Harry deliberately ignored.

Bellatrix leapt to her feet from her seated position on the floor, her face alight with excitement and her wand at the ready as though she expected to find a target in the abandoned foyer. "What are we waiting for then?" she asked, all decorum forgotten. "Let's kill as many as possible while we fight our way out!"

Harry's wand twitched at his side. Instead of using it, however, he decided to remind the woman exactly who she was dealing with. Using his left hand, he wandlessly gripped her by the throat and threw her out of the circle in disgust. No one else moved, not even Rudolphus as he heard his wife screech in pain when she landed awkwardly on the marble floor.

"The rest of you fools listen up. You may be the most skilled duelists the Dark Lord's got, but none of us has a chance if we open those doors." Harry informed them flatly, lowering his hand. "Need I remind you that _Dumbledore's_ out there as well? Fortunately for you all, I happen to possess more intelligence than all of you put together! Arthur Weasley has been injured and a man called Shacklebolt has taken over. I've ordered him to open the hidden Vault doors. Get yourselves ready; we can't get out, so we'll go deeper. Any questions?"

There was a moment's silence but before Harry could dismiss them, Gibson stepped forwards slightly. "My Lord," he asked, waiting for Harry's acknowledging nod before continuing, "what exactly are we hoping to achieve by going even deeper into this bank?"

There was a snort, and all the Death Eaters, even Bellatrix who had returned to the circle, turned as one to look towards to source of the sound. Harry, who was already facing her, simply tilted his head slightly to meet Ginevra's incredulous gaze. "Is there something you'd like to say, girl?" he asked calmly, feeling rather than hearing the seven Death Eaters take a breath in anticipation for the punishment they no doubt expected to befall her.

Punishment, however, was the last thing on Harry's mind. He was genuinely curious. He was his Father's soldier. Rebellion against one's captors, he could understand. He had no doubt that if he was ever captured, he would do whatever was necessary to escape, and reject his captors' every command, whenever he could gain from it. Ginevra, however, had absolutely nothing to gain and everything to lose by her continued derision and comments. They achieved nothing for her, and yet she persisted, as though simply showing her disapproval of them was enough for her, uttering words such as

"You're _all_ going to jail, again I might add (except the guy in the strange mask who I've never heard of before, I think), and the first thing on your minds is _robbing a bank_?"

It was the third time Harry felt the need to chuckle, and this time, he couldn't hold it in. "You don't think very highly of us, do you, Ginevra? I assure you, I am not stupid, and as far beneath me my people are, even they still aren't, either."

"Well you don't think very highly of us, either!" Ginny retorted, obviously referring to her friends and the rest of the supporters of the Light. The Death Eaters began to murmur, and Nott even made to raise his wand, but a look from Harry stopped his motion cold.

"On the contrary, Ginevra." Harry rebutted, walking forwards until he was standing right in front the girl, who, even though she was obviously trying to stop herself, shivered. Harry knew he looked frightening – that was half the point of the mask, the other half being, naturally, to keep his identity a secret. "I quite respect some of your fighters. They are very talented, and dare I say it, pretty intelligent in a few cases. I have great respect for Albus Dumbledore. He truly is one of the greatest Wizards of our age-"

This time, the Death Eaters didn't even try to keep their voices down as they turned to those standing beside them in surprise. How could the Dark Lord's own Heir say that he _respected_ the Dark Lord's greatest enemy? This was a betrayal!

Harry knew that the Death Eaters would be thinking along those lines as soon as he expressed his views, so he ignored them, focusing instead on Ginevra's face, which had almost comically gone slack with shock. She opened her eyes wide, and her mouth was hung open.

"_What?_" she asked, staring at him uncomprehendingly.

Harry almost raised his eyebrows, but then remembered she couldn't see it. Instead, he said in an amused tone, "I thought I was being quiet clear."

"But...but if you really think that, and aren't being sarcastic," she said as though she was thinking out loud, which she probably was, "_why would you be following Voldemort?_"

The Death Eaters hissed in outrage, and Bellatrix started to lose control. "_Enough!_" she shrieked, causing her fellow Death Eaters to jump. "_You, little girl, how dare you say the Dark Lord's name? I'll make you pay for that later, I swear it! And you," she said, now pointing her wand at Harry, "how can you say you're the Dark Lord's son and still respect that senile, Muggle lover?!_"

"SILENCE!" Roared Harry, running out of patience. Everyone immediately became quiet, every except female Lestrange, who took a breath and prepared to keep ranting. She was stopped by Avery, who hit her with a full body bind. Rudolphus grabbed for her and just managed to stop her from toppling over, but he didn't dare make any move to remove the spell. Had it been the Dark Lord himself, Bellatrix would probably have already died for her words. It was safer to leave her immobilized.

"Now," Harry continued calmly once he had everyone's attention. "Ginevra, you ask how I can follow the Dark Lord? It's very simple, really. Dumbledore's an excellent Wizard, and a great man, but he is by no means the only one, is he? Our world is full of great men. _History_ is full of great men. Would you not call Julius Caesar of Rome great? Stalin, of Russia? Merlin, if you want to look at the Magical World. _Hitler_ was a great man..."

"I know, I know..." he said, holding up a palm to forestall the girls arguments before they could be voiced. "You would say that these men turned bad, would you not? That Caesar wanted kingship, Stalin murdered his own, Merlin tried to help and destroyed a country and Hitler...doesn't need explaining. What matters, however, is how they started out. Caesar fought for his country. Stalin united his, and his orders defended it, even at a high cost, against a seemingly unstoppable enemy. Merlin tried to create golden age and Hitler, for ten years before the war, did bring prosperity to his people, except the Jews of course."

"History judges these men harshly. Take Hitler. He tried to wipe out an entire race, but during his time, many thought he was great. Now, of course, we know that everything about him, even those so-called 'good' ten years, was wrong, in every sense of the word. And he lost, because of it. That, Ginevra, is why I can respect Dumbledore and still remain true to the Dark Lord. Because at the end of the day, it doesn't matter how great Dumbledore is, he's _wrong_. History will judge him, as well as the Dark Lord, and even me."

Harry didn't look at Ginny to see if she understood. He didn't even understand why he had told her what he did. He knew she was baiting him, baiting all of them, fishing for information and trying to get them to make a mistake, yet he let himself get pulled into that ridiculous discussion anyway.

_Well, no more,_ he promised himself silently. _I won't let her distract me from what I need to do to keep me and my Father's men alive_. He strode away from the girl without looking back, calling over his shoulder, "Free Bellatrix. The doors should be opening soon and anyone who misses it get to deal with the Aurors."

He moved as far away from Ginevra as possible, positioning him well away on the other side of the room. Picking a random spot on the floor, he sat down, crossed his legs and closed his eyes, letting his mind drift wherever it wanted. He realised he'd ended up never actually specifying what exactly it was he wanted in the depths of the Goblin tunnels, but it didn't really matter. As long as everyone followed his orders, everything would be fine.

* * *

The deep rumbling woke him from his semi-conscious state. He didn't sleep anymore, not really, not since he mastered this form of meditation when he was twelve. It rested his body better, sped up the healing process and, best of all, it meant he was able to react immediately to any situation without his mind being clouded by the fog of sleep.

Behind the row of desks normally was a door that led to the Vaults. Harry had never actually seen it, but he knew where it was having studied Gringotts in detail. Since entering the bank, however, the walls on either side had been completely and utterly blank.

Until now. He let a giant grin slide onto his face, free in the knowledge that no one could see it. It had been a long stretch, and quite a gamble, but it had paid off, after all. It seems that Shacklebolt hadn't been able to just let Ginevra die after all, and actually managed, surprisingly, to convince the Goblins to open up. Briefly, he wondered about the possible surprises that the Goblins might have left them, but quickly dismissed the thought. He'd deal with the matter when – if – it came up. For now, he wasn't going to lose a perfectly good opportunity.

The Death Eaters were already gathered at the new doorway, their wands pointing warily towards the darkness. All the lamps that normally lit the way had been put out, and there was nothing to actually light the tracks themselves. To Harry and the rest of the Death Eaters, however, it didn't pose a problem. After all, they were Wizards.

He crossed the room back over to the girl, Ginevra. Her eyes were wide and alert, flicking back and forth between the doorway and him, her face devoid of all emotion as she watched him approach. "T-this is where you people k-kill me, and then disappear, right?"

Harry was mildly impressed that she almost didn't stutter even when talking about her demise. He raised his wand, pointing it squarely at her head. Ginny refused to shut her eyelids, and was watching his every move.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" He felt the familiar sense of his magic surge through his arm and into the small stick that he held casually in his fingertips. There was a flash of green light, and, completely taking him by surprise, Harry felt a deep pang of regret. He wasn't sure where the emotion came from. Ginevra certainly wasn't the first young girl he had killed. She certainly wouldn't be the last.

_Ah, but she was the first that had tried so hard not to be afraid,_ said a voice inside his head. Harry knew what it said was true. Some died fighting, others begged for their lives, tears running down their face. He had looked upon all of them dispassionately and done what was necessary.

Ginevra, however...she had been faced with certain death, and still tried to act as though it was nothing more than a walk in the park. She had dared to talk back to her captors, insult them, even, and ask questions. Harry, unlike some lesser men and women, didn't practise the art of self-denial. He knew he found her intriguing. He just wasn't sure why.

No doubt, however, her surviving the Killing Curse had something to do with it.

Harry gaped in astonishment as, after the flash had faded away, the girl's eyes were as bright as they had ever been. This close to her, he realised that they were brown, a soft brown that definitely suited her. Then she blinked. Despite himself, Harry took a step back, his wand trembling slightly before he willed it to be steady.

Ginevra cautiously twisted her head, as though she couldn't quite believe she was still alive. She opened her mouth, and Harry's gaze was immediately drawn to her lips when she licked them. She blinked a gain, her brow furrowing in confusion, and tugged at her bonds, grimacing when the rope rubbed against her burn. Then she rolled her eyes.

"Are you serious?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "After all that stuff about Caesar and Hitler, I started to think you might be a tad intelligent, even if you were unfortunately on the wrong side, but now you can't even kill someone properly! Some Death Eater you turned out to be!"

Harry tried to say something, but nothing came out. He heard footsteps, and saw the Lestrange brothers hurrying towards him, leaving the others to guard the doorway.

"My Lord!" Rabastan proclaimed, looking in bewilderment at the tied up, still very much alive form of Ginevra Weasley. "But I heard you say the curse! How is she..."

Unlike his brother, Rudolphus decided to take action instead, probably hoping to gain some favour in return. "Not to worry, my Lord," he announced, drawing his wand and pointing it at the girl, "You must be stressed from directing our actions. We apologize for antagonizing you so, but hopefully I, at least, can partly make up for it by killing her for you in your stead. Avada Ked-"

"No!" Harry snapped suddenly, pushing Rudolphus' wand away. The curse sprang forth and dug a sizable hole in the marble floor, but didn't go anywhere near Ginevra. Both the Lestranges, as well as the other Death Eaters, looked to him in amazement.

"My Lord?" questioned Rudolphus, looking from his wand to Harry and back again as though he couldn't quite believe what just happened. Harry chanced a glance at Ginny, whose expression betrayed her astonishment, and thought about himself, realising that there were at least two other people who couldn't believe what just had happened as well either.

"I..." he said, before coming to a decision. With a flick of his left hand, Ginevra's binds fell away. The girl looked taken aback at this turn of events, but nowhere near as taken aback as the Death Eaters, especially the brothers, who were now openly scowling.

"My Lord," said Rabastan, "might I question what you plan on doing with her? I presume you no longer wish to end her life?"

"No," Harry replied, watching Ginevra as she worked her joints to get the blood flowing again, all the time careful not tm make any sudden movements lest the Death Eaters attack her in response. "She is, after all, still a powerful bargaining chip. Not to mention she could have information about our enemies that would be extremely valuable. We'll take her with us. It is fortunate that my subconscious realised that and caused me to not truly want to kill her. Otherwise the Killing Curse would have worked and she'd be dead, completely useless to us."

The Lestrange brothers looked somewhat sceptic, but unlike Bellatrix, they knew not to argue. Rabastan, however, did make a suggestion, which Harry immediately rejected.

"In that case, my Lord, should we not keep her tied up?"

"Of course not," Harry said, shaking his head, "We have enough to be dealing with without worrying about her safety as well. Did you forget that the Goblins are looking to kill any human that trespasses into their domain? I doubt Ginevra here wants to die any more than we do and sticking close to us is the only way to survive. I'm the only one who knows where we're going, after all. The rest of you will be lost forever under the rocks."

"You understand, don't you, Ginevra?" Harry now said to the girl, waiting for her to nod. "Good. Stay with us then. If you do get lost, we'll let the Goblins kill you. We aren't coming back for you."

"Right," the girl agreed reluctantly, stretching out legs. "Can I at least have my wand to defend myself with? Guess not. Oh well, worth a try..." she amended when Harry and the Lestranges turned to look at her.

* * *

**A/N: WELL. Sorry for the delay in the update, but good things come to those who wait! This chapter is six and a half thousands words long, when my usual is only four thousand! Although admittedly I don't know how this chapter will go with all my awesome readers, because it is kinda lacking in action but I wanted to start giving insights into Harry's logic and view of the world...what do you guys think? Did I do it alright? **

**Oh and hopefully I didn't offend anyone with that Hitler comment. I hope you understand where Harry was coming from when he says Hitler appeared like a great man at first - after all, he solved the unemployment problem (that's one example of the things Harry mentions which seems good but is actually bad - the unemployment problem is 'solved' through conscription for the army that Hitler needed). Harry isn't saying Hitler is all good, or any good, at all. He's saying people BELIEVED he was good at the time, that he was doing the right thing, and that he would prevail, and he didn't, because he was wrong. Just thought I'd clarify that point for anyone who might not have understood, so I don't get reported or raged at for insensitivity/racism/Nazism or something :D**

**Magery, yea, I thought the Death Eaters were kinda useless in cannon, so I decided to give 'em an overhaul under Harry here :P! Glad you like what I've done! At the risk of sounding slightly erm, arrogant? I do have to say that I think I am pretty good at writing action, but I don't think my words about the peaceful times are up to scratch - I don't think I'd be very good at characterisation in those scenes, though I haven't exactly tested it out :D. As for the angsty-hero, well, Harry IS fully evil here, but then again, the samurai used to believe killing oneself could only be done through a complex process of spilling and twisting your own internal organs with a knife! It's all in the eye of the beholder, and whether or not Harry will be angsty, or feel conflicted as the anti-hero...guess you'll have to wait and see! I hope this chapter lacking in action doesn't disappoint tho...and finally, what an AWESOME review! You are great! That was the longest, most in depth and detailed review I've ever received!**

**marinka, well, there you go. A reason, enjoy :P!**

**To a guest reviewer, not just love for you father, but I think his world view would be pretty screwed up too, like I hope I made clear in this chapter! What do you think?**

**14saintsb-ball, you'll have to wait and see! If Ginny _does_ turn evil tho, doesn't that remove any chance Harry has of turning good? GG war over :D...**

**To all Nesiamema, CrazyWithABook, Sunnyseaforever, who didn't really have a question but left a review, thanks! And thanks for reading! That goes for all my other readers as well, hope you guys are enjoying the story!**

**Next Chapter - the depths of Gringotts! Possibly a little horror? And most certainly, ACTION galore!**

**Until next time,**

**PowerOfOne**


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